


A Chance Encounter

by Flutiebear



Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: But I gotta tag the warnings anyway, Erik has a visitor, M/M, Nobody actually dies in the making of this fic, Spoilers, Spoilers for Act 2, Spoilers for Erik's personal quest, minor violence warning, mostly dead, still slightly alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 14:26:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16306928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flutiebear/pseuds/Flutiebear
Summary: When you first meet him, Erik says that the Seer has told him to "put his faith in the Luminary." So how exactly did that conversation with the Seer go? (Major spoilers for Act 2; if you haven't completed Erik's personal quest, don't read yet.)





	A Chance Encounter

The bar fight isn't Erik's fault. For once.

It starts when Lucio accuses Borcaccio of trying to make off with their hard-earned loot. In turn, Borcaccio accuses Artiss of trying to dupe them with a fake Phoenix Tear. Artiss denies the whole thing, until the real Phoenix Tear falls out of her sleeve and rolls around the table. So she turns her butter knife on the bartender and then, treasure forgotten, everybody starts shouting at once.

Blades are drawn and start flying. It's only a matter of time, perhaps, before one of them finds its way into Erik's gut.

He tries his best to dodge, of course. Ten years of eluding the Chief's blows has given Erik the deftness of weasels. But he's not fast enough. Not this time. There's only the briefest of flashes before Borcaccio's wrist turns, and the poison moth knife sinks home.

Erik gasps from the pain.

Nobody hears him.

He brings his hand to his belly and feels his insides, slippery and wet and threatening to spill across the straw-strewn floor. He looks down. Blood pours over his fingers, his belt.

A _t least,_ he thinks, _I'm not going to be killed by a butter knife._

Erik staggers toward the exit. The fight rages on without him. He slips a little in his own blood and collides with the door. Nobody notices he is leaving. Nobody would care, anyway.

The door gives way. Downtown Heliodor bursts into view, a cacophony of sounds and colors; the familiar mishmash of mud and putrescence. Yet it all feels strangely far away to Erik right now.

A woman passes him.

"Help me," he tries to say, reaching out one blood-covered hand.

She shrieks and runs.

Erik can't even blame her.

He coughs wetly. The world begins to spiral. He falls, and he falls, and he doesn't stop falling until the darkness claims him.

**

When Erik opens his eyes, he is still in Downtown Heliodor. Maybe? That is, it is Heliodor, but it isn't: The slum looks like it has been replaced with a painting of itself, with colors at once too bright and not bright enough. The once vibrant stench of horseshit has been replaced with… nothing, actually.

Erik squints up and down the narrow, ramshackle street. Nothing stirs.

Literally.

The bums and bunny girls are frozen in their places. Strides have stopped, conversations halted. Down the street, one tough has punched another, who hangs in the air as he falls backwards. Nearby, a cat grooms itself, its tongue frozen mid-lick.

Erik feels a dull ache in his stomach, as if he's eaten too much. But that can't be right. Never in his life has Erik ever eaten too much. Usually the opposite.

He also has the feeling that something important is happening. Something he needs to remember, but can't.  

Out of the shadows emerges a young man, his soft face caught somewhere between boyish and handsome. He is wearing simple farmer's clothes: a long, berry-purple traveler's coat, simple leather boots, a satchel at his side. He's tall and lanky, maybe a year or two younger than Erik, as if he has just come of age. His hair ruffles in an unfelt breeze.

He's beautiful. Quite possibly the most beautiful man Erik has ever seen. Not that Erik has had much in the way of comparison: The Vikings were gruff hamhocks of men pockmarked by battle scars, while the thieves in Erik's current orbit are generally grimy creatures resembling rodents of all shapes and sizes. But there's something about this man, something that almost seems to shine.

He peers down at Erik.

"You're early," he says.

"Uh." Erik frowns. "I am?"

The man rolls his eyes. "Don't ask stupid questions. And get up already."

Erik looks down. He's laying in the street for some reason. He tries to pick himself up, but can't.

The young man rolls his eyes and offers his hand, then he hauls Erik to his feet. Then he looks Erik up and down appraisingly, his gaze intense as a jeweler's to a gemstone.

"Well," he says after a time, "this won't do at all."

Erik squirms. Nobody so beautiful—or, well, _anybody_ , really—has ever regarded him with such intensity, except one or two of the Vikings, and only when they were drunk. "What?"

"You're dying right now. Bleeding out in a gutter," he says. Erik starts to respond, but the man silences him with a pat on his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll get you all patched up before we part."

Ah yes, that's right. The knife. His gut.

Erik supposes he ought to feel more panic about that. Instead, he just feels… nothing.

No—not nothing.

 _Relief._  

Erik crosses his arms as if he can so easily ward away the guilt he feels over his own impending death. "Who are you?" 

The man snaps his fingers, a sound that echoes in the silence. "That, my dear boy, is the better question. You may call me The Seer." He regards Erik almost fondly. "Not many folks find me on their own, you know. You're a special one. But I knew that already."

The Seer's voice is familiar in a way that Erik can't quite place. But Erik could swear he has never seen this man before. Maybe they knew each other in a previous lifetime. That's a thing that happens, isn't it? At least, that's what the priests evangelizing on the street corners argue.  

"'The Seer'?" The world lurches threateningly, and Erik almost loses his balance. "What exactly is it that you see?"

The Seer narrows his eyes. "More than you, you cheeky child. Now, can we hurry this up before you bleed out in the gutter? We have business to which we must attend."

Erik has no idea what that answer means, what any of this means. Nothing makes any sense. "But what's happened to Heliodor?"

The Seer frowns. "Nothing has happened to it."

"The people." Erik gestures around to the calm, still street. "They're all—stuck."

The Seer makes a face like he's trying very hard not to be annoyed about something. "They're not the ones who are stuck, Erik," he says.

"Wait, how do you know my—"

But the Seer continues on. "Enough questions. I must insist that we really be getting on with this. So listen to me, and listen well. I am prepared to offer you a deal. One, I must stress, you are in no position to refuse, since you are dying and all."

Erik isn't really sure what to say, so he says nothing at all. The Seer takes this as encouragement to keep going.

"I'll save your life—on one condition. You must do something for me in return. In fact, if you perform this task, then I shall not only save your life, I will ensure that you will finally possess that treasure which you crave beyond all others."

"The Phoenix Tear?" Erik frowns. Sure, the Tear was rumored to cure any status ailment, but the artifact itself wasn't _that_ dear to him. He'd never even seen it before this latest quest, and there are plenty of other treasures rumored to perform the same function—a fact of which he has been painfully aware, for the past five years.

The Seer blinks.

"Forgiveness," he says gently.

Some small and secret treasure chest in Erik unlocks. "Oh."

"Here's your task. When you wake, you must search out the Red Orb of Heliodor. Do you understand? The Red Orb of Heliodor."

The Seer's words curl up Erik's spine like a winter's chill. Oh, he understands it alright. All too well. Mia had wanted the Red Orb of Heliodor, too. It had been her greatest desire—apart from gold.

And look what that wrought.

Erik had long ago given up his search for the Red Orb, in favor of finding a cure, any cure, that might have the power to save his sister. But that doesn't matter right now. Erik isn't exactly in a position to argue about it.

"Red Orb," he says quietly. "Got it."

The Seer nods approvingly and continues: "Your journey will take you deep underground, to the most forbidding and forsaken pit; where countless men have lost their lives to despair. I cannot lie; it will test you." The Seer's eyes soften. "But do not lose hope. Instead, you must wait for the Luminary."

"The Luminary?" The strange word sparks on Erik's tongue. It sounds familiar, like it is a name or a title that he used to know, once. A memory that has slipped away with time.

"That's what I said. When you find him, you must stay by his side at all costs. Through thick and thin. For richer and for poorer; in sickness and in health."

Erik coughs to hide the flush spreading across his cheeks. "Sounds almost like you want us to get married or something, heh."   

The Seer's expression is inscrutable. "That is not for me to decide."

"W-what?" 

The Seer's smooth brow scrunches. "Don't get distracted. Our time grows short. Remember this, Erik, for this is most important: You must put your faith in the Luminary. If you do this, he will never let you down. He will be your dearest companion, so long as you allow him to be."

This conversation isn't just bizarre. It's making Erik feel hot all over, almost as if he's—envious? But that doesn't make any sense. How can he be envious of himself? 

The Seer is still talking, though. "He will need your strength, when his fails; and he will need your wits, when his fail him. So remember, my dear boy: Look for the Luminary. Will you do as I ask?"

Erik exhales long and slow. "This is—just—too _weird."_

The Seer nods. "Indeed. So: will you do it?"    

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"No, you don’t." The Seer smiles then, but it isn't a predatory smile, like how the Chief might smile when he knew he had Erik over the barrel. It's more like that of a friend. Or how Erik might imagine a friend might smile, anyway.

It's enough to put Erik's heart at ease. He realizes he might do any manner of crazy things, just to have somebody smile at him like that again.

"I will," he says, warmth blooming in his chest. "So this Luminary—how will I know when I've met him?"

As the Seer brushes a lock of hair away from his face, Erik notices a mark on his hand. A scar, perhaps, or a birthmark. It's shaped almost like a royal crest.

Erik has seen all manner of Viking runes and magical sigils, but he's never seen anything quite like that. 

The Seer catches Erik looking—or was he waiting for Erik to look?—and smirks.

"You'll know," he says. He turns, his perfect hair fluttering in that same unseen breeze. "See you later, partner."

There's a flash of light, and the world goes white.

Next thing Erik knows, he's standing in the gutter outside the bar. His tunic is ragged and stained where the knife connected.

Erik checks the skin of his belly. It's clean. Whole.

Not even a scar remains.

Erik turns in a slow circle. Downtown Heliodor is much the same as it ever was: Noisy, cluttered, a flurry of motion and color, sound and fury. A tough sprawls in the street; another stands over him, shouting, shaking out his fist. A cat finishes its bath and moves on.

The Seer is nowhere to be found.

Erik blinks. Breathes in and out. Was it all a dream?

If so, it was unlike any dream Erik has ever had. Even now, the Seer's words echo in his ears: _Put your faith in the Luminary._

Now, surrounded by the smells and sounds of reality, the Seer's task starts to feel impossible. After all, Erik doesn't exactly have a lot of faith. He hasn't had much use for it over the years. Faith requires trust, and trusting the Vikings only got him an aching back and an empty belly. Trusting thieves—well, that got him shanked in a gutter, didn't it?

_He will never let you down._

For some reason, Erik's eyes begin to sting. He supposes, now that he considers it, that he's never had much in his life besides Mia. Nobody to lean on, nobody to offer support. He's mostly been on his own.

After all this time, it might be nice to have somebody else. Somebody who might finally have his back.

Somebody he could have a little faith in.

Erik decides that even if it was all a dream, then it's one he wouldn't mind seeing come true. 

Erik tugs a nearby banner from its perch and ties it around his waist to hide the blood stains. Then he turns on his heel and strides toward Heliodor Castle.

He has an orb to steal.


End file.
